The Angel's Fire

by Holley Trent

  “See if there are oranges left,” Lady Sophie called out as Eugenia ushered her toward the cabin door. “Don’t let them hold any back. I know they had barrels and barrels of them, and I won’t be put off.”

  “I’ll ask,” Rachel said.

  “Oh! Can you fake a lowborn British accent?”

  Eugenia grumbled.

  “Lady, I can fake anything, even when I’m upright,” Rachel waggled her eyebrows and set off down the corridor.

  Eugenia closed the door after her. Huffed with frustration, and then excused herself to the washbowl where she promptly splashed water on her face.

  Lady Sophie patted the edge of the bed again and motioned them over.

  Tarik nudged Lola forward.

  She moved slowly, as though her feet had met tar on the wooden floor planks.

  Go on.

  “There, now,” Lady Sophie said. “I told you all about my checkered origins. What of yours? Shall I count you as part of the big cat ratio?”

  “No.”

  “Just…no?” Lady Sophie gave Tarik a help me look.

  The expression was comical, but he managed to stifle the compulsion to laugh. He sat carefully in the chair Eugenia had abandoned and draped his wings over the back. “What she is…is difficult to explain. Perhaps we don’t need to.”

  “Very well.” She looked to Lola again, bold and directly into her eyes. “You don’t sound American.”

  “And perhaps I never will,” Lola said.

  “What are your origins? No disrespect intended, of course—just curiosity. I’d like to know what exists on your side of the earth.”

  Lola straightened her rings on her fingers. Studied her immaculate, dagger-shaped nails. “I came from nowhere and out of nothing,” she said.

  “Well, that’s perfectly opaque.”

  Lola closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “Mexico,” she said quietly. “I roamed all over what you know as Mexico.”

  “Hmm,” she purred, delighted. “I’ve never met anyone from there.”

  “I imagine you have not yet had the opportunity.”

  “And now I have.” Lady Sophie grinned at Tarik. “Thank you, Angel.”

  “He has a name.”

  “Yes. I take it you do, as well? I know his, but I haven’t heard yours. What is it? I am Lady Sophia Delacroix. You may call me Sophie.”

  Tarik didn’t think Lola would give her the courtesy of a response, but she said, “My name is not spoken.”

  “What do you mean? The aristocracy certainly has ways of making names disappear,” Sophie said with a laugh, “but I suspect you don’t mean that.”

  “No. My given name is no longer spoken. There is magic in names. I do not share mine.”

  Sophie’s fan fluttered once more. “I see.”

  Tarik did as well. She’d never told him that, though he’d suspected as much. She could have told him.

  She didn’t trust him.

  For some reason, that bothered him. He generally didn’t care about what little regard other creatures had of him. They couldn’t beat him, so why should he?

  But the butterfly was different. Her opinion of him mattered, somehow.

  “Well, what do you go by, then?” Sophie asked.

  “I respond to Lola.”

  “Ooh. Lola. Rolls off the tongue nicely, doesn’t it? Well, Lola.” She set down her fan and took Lola’s hands in hers. “Let’s be friends, shall we? We can talk all about that mischievous creature over there.”

  Lola’s gaze tracked slowly over to him.

  He’d been right about her smile. There was a promise of misery in it.

  He sat up straighter, girding himself for a feminine-branded sort of trouble.

  “Yes,” Lola said softly. “Let us talk all about him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Eugenia had begged for a breath of fresh air, so she and Elizabeth sneaked out in search of a lonely stretch of deck railing outside.

  Lola eyed Tarik with as much malevolence as she could manage. He must have thought the Englishwoman could get her to bare her soul, but she’d turn the tides the other way. If there were secrets to spill, they’d all be his. She knew he couldn’t easily excuse himself. Even if he had shrunk himself a few inches, he was too visible—a dark-skinned giant on a ship full of Englishpeople. He’d said he had to conserve energy. He wasn’t going to vanish.

  He would have to endure, and Lola planned to make him work hard at it.

  “Oh! Before we proceed,” Sophie said to Tarik, “I must ask a favor of you. I’ll pay you, of course, in spite of my financial situation being entirely precarious for the time being. Perhaps that’ll change once the estate settles.”

  “What sort of favor?” Tarik had his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. With the cabin being so small, his booted feet touched the side of the bed in spite of him being in the “far” corner. He rolled his left shoulder and grimaced. He must have felt incredibly compressed.

  “Nothing murderous. It’s just that I left England so quickly that I obviously didn’t have time to wait for a response from the manager of our holdings in Bermuda. At the rate we’re going, I’ll arrive before my message does. I was wondering if you could intercede on my behalf and get things in order for me.”

  “So you’ll have a place ready to live in,” Lola said.

  “Precisely.” Sophie turned her knees toward Lola and leaned in close. “And so he doesn’t try to cheat me. The duke may have met his demise, but I’m going to get what’s due to me.”

  “What stopped you from getting it when the duke was alive?”

  Sophie snorted and leaned her back against the tiny bed’s headboard. “My brother was an odious man. To him, it didn’t matter what our mother insisted be put aside for any poor daughters she might happen to have. It had all been written down and signed off on long before I made my entrance into the world. If I couldn’t marry by thirty, I’d have my choice of the properties my mother carried into the marriage and an income to go with it.”

  “Couldn’t marry?”

  “Yes, couldn’t. Naturally, the assumption was that I would want to and would do so.” The side of her wide mouth quirked up in challenge. “I took that as a dare.”

  “To what? Wait until thirty-one and marry as you see fit?”

  “No. To not marry at all. Why should I? For what?”

  “You shouldn’t say such things aloud,” Tarik said. “The walls have ears and it’s dangerous for women to be on their own. They get taken advantage of.”

  “It is interesting that you would come to that conclusion rather than commending her for making her own way in a system that is rarely fair for women,” Lola said.

  “I simply ponder if she hasn’t considered the pitfalls of such independence.”

  “I think at her age, she has more than done so. By now, she has experienced them.”

  Sophie’s grin was suddenly flat, her gaze unfocused, hands wringing the braided silk cords of her dressing gown. “It’s one thing to have something,” she said after a minute of quiet, “but yet another to actually be able to access it. He wouldn’t let me. Thought I’d give in, I suppose. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Still kept trying to foist disgustingly rich commoners and ancient barons on me. He thought we were all equally desperate, but you can’t be desperate for something you don’t want, can you?”

  “What aversions do you have to companionship?” Tarik asked.

  “Should she not be able to choose whichever companions suit her?” Lola retorted. “Or none at all? Or do you assume that a woman naturally cannot cope without being in the presence of other breathing, speaking, needy things?”

  If he had a response to that, he didn’t voice it. He rolled his shoulder again and turned his golden gaze to the low ceiling.

  How odd that a creature of his might, his age, his abilities would concern himself with socialization. Beings like them were meant to be alone. The things they created when
they got too close or—worse—attached were more often than not harmful for the humans around them.

  Lola didn’t have lovers and she didn’t make friends. Aside from the Cougars, she no longer contemplated mortal lives or care about their charming foibles.

  That made being what she was easier.

  Perhaps if he’d had a similar personal philosophy, he’d find himself less inclined to interfere.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t have fallen.

  But…she wouldn’t have ever known him if he hadn’t.

  The thought of them never crossing paths didn’t settle well in her brain. She didn’t wish to erase him from her history. She was practical. He was there, so he may as well stay.

  She looked at him.

  He looked back as he slowly pressed his hands to the bends of his neck and squeezed. He grimaced.

  “I enjoy solitude,” Sophie murmured, seemingly oblivious to the silent assessment between the two ancient beings in her cabin. “I enjoy it…until I do not. Does that make sense at all? I hardly understand it myself.”

  Tarik swallowed, drew in a breath, and slowly sat up straighter. “There’s no one way to be. Some people are social. Some aren’t. Some pick and choose when and how much they interact with others. Angels are generally solitary, though we have our pods of peers we attach to. We do not need to speak every day, or even every year. I have one friend whom I tend to see many times in a spurt and then we’ll be silent to each other for years. And then there’s another I monitor more closely and usually travel with.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Roaming. Looking. If he needs me, he’ll find a way of letting me know. Communicating is difficult for him.”

  “I would like that,” Sophie mused. “I wish there was a tap I could turn on and off. If I’m in the spirits for companionship, I simply twist it. The moment it all gets to be too boring, I turn it the other way.”

  “I’ll do your favor for you,” Tarik said. “Tell me what you need in Bermuda and what your fears are, and I’ll assume whatever form necessary to get things settled.”

  “Thank you, Tarik.” Sophie tightened her gown at the neck and managed to put on half a smile. “Now. How do you think Rachel’s getting along with that tea? There are many vices I’ve quit, but that’s the one thing I’ve still got left to bolster me.”

  “I will go and see how she fares,” Lola said, standing.

  Sophie grabbed her wrist but dropped it upon making out the probable look of chastisement on Lola’s face. “You can’t go out there looking like that, is all. You’ll stand out.”

  “A fair warning.” Lola picked up the hand Sophie had dropped from her wrist and, without warning, pulled from the woman the bit of information she needed. Adopting new forms was always so much easier when she had the picture she was mimicking close by. A few inches upward. Lighter hair and skin. Thinner nose. Sophie’s clothes were harder to duplicate. Fabrics weren’t like flesh. She managed to weave the magic, anyway, and strode to the door while pinning her hair.

  “Well, that’s…not typical,” Sophie whispered, awed.

  “No,” Tarik said. “There’s nothing at all typical about her.”

  Lola could not tell if he meant that as a compliment.

  ___

  “For a lady who doesn’t like company much, she sure didn’t seem to want us to leave,” Rachel said as she worked her boots off back at the saloon.

  “Hmm,” Lola murmured noncommittally. She didn’t wish to admit that the afternoon wasn’t entirely disturbing. In fact, many parts of it were rather pleasant. Lady Sophie had a rather droll sense of humor that seemed to constantly confound her maid, and Lola could appreciate any woman who could admit she simply wasn’t suited for romance.

  Lola wasn’t entirely sure that was actually the case, though, and she wasn’t prone to pondering such things.

  There was a partner out there somewhere for Sophie—someone who’d give her plenty of space when she needed it and could sweep her off her feet on the rare moment she wanted to be. Perhaps she’d find him.

  Perhaps Lola would do her the favor of…meddling.

  Elizabeth glanced around the dark saloon and swiped her damp palms down her dress front. “Where’d Tarik go?”

  “Hmm?” Lola turned from her station at the corner of the sagging bar and scanned the room. He’d been right behind her, gripping her, actually, during their awkward tumble back to Maria. The Cougars hadn’t seemed to notice the waning of his energy, but being what she was, Lola was sensitive to such things. Moving four beings thousands of miles in seconds had to take an extraordinary expenditure of energy, even for a creature as terrifying as him.

  She didn’t see him. “He was here, was he not?”

  Rachel clutched her boots against her chest and turned slowly, pupils narrowing to catlike slits. “I could have sworn. He was—”

  Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the pounding on the door.

  Lola lifted her finger to her lips, though she probably didn’t need to. Cougars weren’t the sorts of beings who’d run enthusiastically toward surprises.

  Another knock.

  “All right. Open up. Don’t act like you’re not in there. I can go to the back door, but does it really matter?”

  “The sheriff,” Elizabeth said.

  “What the hell does he want?” Rachel whispered.

  Lola gave her head a minuscule shake. She had her suspicions about what he wanted, and she was hardly in the mood to indulge him.

  The sheriff banged louder.

  The ladies moved slowly toward the staircase and out of potential viewing range of the one remaining glass window.

  Of course, there was nowhere else they could be late on a Sunday night. Maria wasn’t a twenty-four-hour town. Most people were at home by dark, and if they weren’t there, they were at the saloon. The saloon was always closed on Sundays.

  Another knock. “Want the whole town to hear or are you gonna open up?” the sheriff bellowed. “Wanna talk to that fella you had in there. He might be wanted for a crime.”

  “Liar,” Rachel spat.

  Lola clapped a hand over the Cougar’s mouth. “He wants to rattle us. That is all,” she whispered.

  “Where is Tarik?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’m here.” The angel’s voice seemed distant. Within the saloon, but seemingly trapped in some hard-to-reach corner like the cobwebs the cleaner could never managed to swat down.

  “Where?” Lola asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let him in. Send him upstairs if he wants to see me. I’ll make him leave.”

  “How?”

  “Do I question you about your magic, Butterfly?”

  “No.”

  “Then do not interrogate me about mine. Send Elizabeth and Rachel to their beds and let the meddler in.”

  She didn’t like to be given orders in her own saloon, but lacking an alternative plan, she had no choice but to heed them. She gestured for the Cougars to go upstairs. When their doors had closed, she backtracked down the steps and hurried to the entrance before the sheriff could knock again. The last thing she wanted was for the busybody owners of the general store across the street to step outside in their nightclothes to chastise her for the racket. She didn’t want to quibble with them so late at night. The conflict would only sour community relations even more and she was running out of social endurance as far as the Maria locals were concerned.

  “What do you want, Sheriff?” she asked as she yanked the door open partway. She didn’t intend to extend an invitation.

  He nudged the brim of his hat up and peered down at her in considering silence. Waiting for her to talk, to show her discomfort, probably. Looking for power she had no intention of handing to him.

  “Need to see that feller,” he said after a while.

  “Why?”

  “Got word the Marshals are looking for a man. I want to see if he matches the description.”

  “What did this man do?”
<
br />   “Doesn’t matter.”

  She ground her teeth. Of course it didn’t matter to him. The punishment would be the same no matter what he claimed Tarik did. Lola wasn’t inclined to help him with his sudden interest in so-called law and order.

  “When did the crime occur?” she asked.

  “Last night.”

  Ah.

  Somehow, she managed not to scoff with triumph. “Then it would highly unlikely he could be the suspect. He has been abed since he was shot.” She put the side of her face against the door and let her lips curve at the corners. “There was a gunfight that you didn’t do very much about. Do you remember that? Seems odd that you would be so concerned about the one victim now.”

  “Don’t know if you know this, but a feller can be both a suspect and a victim at the same time.”

  “Do not condescend to me, Sheriff. I assure you, I do it better, and you would not like it.”

  “You threatening me, Miss Lola?”

  She was going to tell him the truth, but she remembered what Tarik had told her. He’d told her to send the fool upstairs for him to deal with, and she wasn’t going to doubt his capacity to do so, even if she doubted there wouldn’t be repercussions.

  I’ll worry about repercussions tomorrow.

  She was too tired to care for the moment.

  “Fine.” She stepped away from the door and gestured toward the staircase. “He’s in Louise’s room. I’m sure you remember where that is. You certainly spent enough nights in it.”

  He sidled in around her silently but casting a malevolent leer in her direction. If he were waiting for a flinch or a swoon, he wasn’t going to get it.

  The sheriff pounded up the stairs like he owned them, already gripping the butt of his revolver as though he knew he’d use it. He barged through the door.

  So she followed, concerned about how Tarik would navigate the scene.

  Before she made it to the bedroom doorway, however, the sheriff had turned on his heels, pulled up his bandana from his neck to his nose, and retreated faster than he’d gone. He coughed and sputtered through the fabric.

  “Better get the doc in there or somethin’,” he said just before the saloon door slammed shut behind him.